Bunnicula: A Rabbit-Tale of Mystery
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BEWARE THE HARE!
Is he or isn't he a vampire?
Before it's too late, Harold the dog and Chester the cat must find out the truth about the newest pet in the Monroe household -- a suspicious-looking bunny with unusual habits...and fangs!
floor. Chester flattened his ears, wiggled his rear end, and smiled in anticipation. To cat observers, this is known as the “attack position.” “Run, Bunnicula!” I shouted. Bunnicula turned in my direction, as if to ask where. “Anywhere!” I cried. “Just get out of his way!” Chester sprang. Bunnicula jumped. And in the flash of a second, they had changed positions. Chester now found himself flat on his back (owing to the slipperiness of the salad dressing) in the bowl. And Bunnicula, too dazed
“That’s it, Chester. This is Chester’s last stand!” Chester rolled his eyes heavenward and didn’t even try to move. “Mom,” said Toby, tugging at his mother’s arm, “look at Bunnicula. How did he get out of his cage? He looks scared.” “Of course, he’s scared,” Mrs. Monroe said. “We probably forgot to latch his cage and he got out. And I think Chester has been chasing him.” Toby put his face close to the rabbit. “Mom, doesn’t Bunnicula look kinda sick?” “We’d better take them all to the vet to
Dragon in My Sleeping Bag Teddy Bear’s Scrapbook (with Deborah Howe) Horace and Morris but Mostly Dolores Horace and Morris Join the Chorus (but what about Dolores?) Kaddish for Grandpa in Jesus’ name amen Tales from the House of Bunnicula It Came from Beneath the Bed! Invasion of the Mind Swappers from Asteroid 6! Howie Monroe and the Doghouse of Doom Screaming Mummies of the Pharaoh’s Tomb II Bud Barkin, Private Eye The Amazing Odorous Adventures of Stinky Dog Sebastian Barth
found on Toby’s chair was the little blanketed bundle that was now sitting on Mr. Monroe’s lap. They now unwrapped the blanket, and there in the center was a tiny black and white rabbit, sitting in a shoebox filled with dirt. A piece of paper had been tied to his neck with a ribbon. There were words on the paper, but the Monroes were unable to decipher them because they were in a totally unfamiliar language. I moved closer for a better look. Now, most people might call me a mongrel, but I have
cream in the center, however, are another story. This particular evening, I stationed myself on Toby’s stomach. Usually, I’m a little more subtle but, having missed out on the bacon at breakfast, I was not about to take any chances on the chocolate cupcakes (with cream in the center). Toby knew what I was after. But sometimes he thinks he’s funny, and he plays little games with me. “Hi, Harold, I’ll bet you’d like a peanut butter sandwich, wouldn’t you? Here, you have this one that’s leftover